


Restless Spring

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: General, Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 21:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3743734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumil and the invention of the Sarati.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restless Spring

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

"You are worried again are you not?"

"Yes." He answered, head downcast, hands fidgeting with a long stem of grass.

His mother let out a long sigh and turned her head toward the window where the rays of Laurelin is in full bloom.

"I can never understand, my child, why should you be so worried." Why did she end up with such an anxiety-ridden son? _Unique, yet perhaps too much so._

He did not answer, because in truth, he feared his answers. So instead, he darted out the door into the light.

"Perhaps," He thought, "It is just because of spring."

His father often told him, and he had often noticed, that living things were restless in spring. Indeed, the enthusiastic chatterings of the birds told him as much.

Along the way, he saw two bears grappling with each other. "Must be spring." He decided, then once again when two small fox cubs crashed into his leg then scurrying off.

Too much excess energy, he once heard Lord Finwe remark of him to his father after he was presented at court. Very vivacious, vivid personality, in possession of great animation, definitely a future for a training into being a healer.

Rumil the Animated! Laughing at the thought, he ran along and then into the forest, hoping that for once, he would sleep as Telperion shone, as the others did. Everyday, he hoped that he would walk along that path of dreams everyone except him sank gratefully into, their eyes sparkling with the light of the stars though elen be not in sight...

Rumil the Insomniac! He reflected with a wry smile. He had came into a wide clearing where several birds were engaged in an odd dance. The dirt were soft loose beneath his light shoes; treading carefully, he came closer, hoping to exert himself in watching, in being still- the most exhausting of all activities he had discovered.

Light feet moved, and left marks, talons, three claws..quite decorative he thought as he became mesmerized with the patterns on the ground.

A twig snapped beneath him. Quicker than sight, he was bereft of the spring dance of the brightly plumaged birds. Rumil did not care by that point, for he was seized with an all consuming thought.

Why did he worry? The Quendi were immortal, they do not die, and they have a perfect memory, able to replay the past into the most minute detail. Yet, he just, does. What happens, if one day, one dies? Their memory would be gone to Mandos along with their fea; and never again shall events, their perspectives be able to be told through tales, or songs..their memories would be...irretriviably lost...

As he watched the marks on the ground, he was aware of a new chord of the Music vibrating within him. Yes, of course! They have artists who drew pictures, who crafted ornaments, they have singers and poets who can conjure up the images the artists drew, or even stranger..scenes inside the audiences' mind so they believed.

Why not? Indeed, why not? There should be a new art? An art more powerful than crafts, more powerful than music, it would remember more than they could.

Through meaning for characters, standing for sound for the speech the Quendi are known for, he could and would enchant and perserve...

 


End file.
